


to laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again

by Chash



Series: forget your perfect offering [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 10:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19271092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke knows, when she stops talking to Bellamy, that she won't just lose him. She'll lose all their mutual friends, sooner or later, and it's not ideal but she doesn't see any way around it. And she'll have Madi, and they'll be a family.Six years later, she still thinks she made the right choice. But maybe it doesn't have to be forever.(Clarke POV of the skylight is like skin for a drum I'll never mend)





	to laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again

"Are you ever going to talk to Bellamy again?" Madi asks. She's playing innocent, in her pajamas with her hair in pigtails, cosplaying as a little kid to gain sympathy.

She really is Clarke's daughter.

"You can drop the act, it's not going to work."

She huffs. "If you're mad at him, you should be mad at me."

"I am mad at you. You're grounded and I took your phone." But there's a bigger conversation to be had here, one Madi deserves to be a part of. "Look, I get why you did it, and why he did. But it just--this isn't going to work. The thing where Bellamy is still a part of our family."

Her jaw drops, which Clarke has never actually seen in real life. "What?"

"He doesn't live with us anymore--"

"So we're just throwing him away? Out of sight, out of mind? I can't believe you!"

"I wasn't finished." She lets a harsh breath. " _I_ can't do it, Madi. I can't deal with him marrying someone else and when I still--"

Her voice cracks, which she hates. She's never wanted to be the kind of person who lets her feelings for someone ruin a friendship. She and Raven made a friendship out of romantic turmoil, and she and Lexa broke up because she thought she was losing herself in it, losing the other people who mattered to her.

Bellamy was supposed to be different. He fit so perfectly into her life, until he got engaged and she realized this one wasn't going to fizzle out like she told herself it was. By which point, it was too late to really insert herself into the conversation. 

And they'd never really talked about the rest of it either. He moved out, but he hadn't _left_. They were still friends, and it was already killing her by degrees before Madi asked them if she could go to meet this random guy from the internet, and Bellamy had said yes and she said no.

If she hadn't been so distracted by the revelation that this would _keep happening_ , that every time Madi wanted to do something she didn't think Clarke would let her, she'd appeal to Bellamy as the tie-breaker, she probably would have realized that he'd do it anyway.

"You guys didn't talk about that?" Madi asks, soft.

Clarke smiles a little. "I told him I was happy for him. I _am_ happy for him. But he can't just turn off caring for you, and I can't just turn off--I shouldn't have done this in the first place. It was a mistake."

"Which part?"

"The part where I brought a kid in to live with me and my roommate I was in unrequited love with." She sighs. "I was twenty-three. I had this whole romantic comedy worked out where we fell in love and lived happily ever after."

"I had that worked out too, if it helps."

"You were eleven," she teases. "It's less pathetic for you."

"So we really are done with him?" Madi asks. "Like--this is it. For real."

"If it wasn't this, it probably would have been something else. And I'm not--I'm still really, really mad at him. At both of you."

"But if he wasn't engaged, you'd be having a different fight."

If he wasn't engaged, they'd be having a fight about how Bellamy fits into this family, who he is to Madi and to her, and it would be awful, but she thinks they could maybe recover from it. 

"You could just tell him he can't be my dad, right?" Madi offers, like she's thinking the same thing. "That you're my family and we love him, but he can't do that."

"I don't think there's a way this can work," says Clarke. She swallows hard, forces out the words. "If you want to live with him instead--"

"No! I just--" She bites her lip. "It shouldn't end this way, right?

"I'm sorry," says Clarke. "I should have--I should have done this differently right from the start."

"It's okay."

"This isn't your fault. Me and Bellamy. It would have happened no matter what. Sooner or later--" She smiles a little. "At least this way, I have a really good reason to be pissed at him."

"You could still tell him," Madi offers. "Just--tell him everything and see what happens."

"I can't."

If this had been three years ago, Clarke doesn't think this conversation could have happened. Madi would have been too young and raw. She probably would have been more angry at Clarke for saying no than guilty for disobeying her. Maybe she would have wanted to go live with Bellamy, who understood her better. She definitely would have thought Clarke could still get the rom-com ending.

But she's sixteen now, old enough to have this conversation. All she says is, "Okay."

*

When Clarke drops Bellamy, she doesn't expect anyone to take her side. It's less that she doesn't think they might, if they knew everything, but more that she knows the way she's doing this makes her, if not the bad guy, then at least unreasonable. Everyone acknowledges that he fucked up, fucked up _badly_ even, but he also fucked up understandably. The two of them have a history of disagreeing; before Octavia left, they got in shouting matches when Clarke thought Bellamy didn't get where his sister was coming from, and he usually came around.

Mostly, though, when one person is calling and texting and groveling and the other is ignoring them, there's no way for them to really reconcile. And Clarke turns in on herself too, shies away out of fear of someone asking her what happened, of having to have the conversation. 

Even years later, when the dust has settled and her skin is less raw, she doesn't know what she could have done differently. She doesn't think things could have been salvaged with anyone.

So when Raven shows up at her apartment and says, "We're talking," she knows it's going to be bad.

"Okay."

That seems to catch her off guard, which is a little funny. Maybe she thought Clarke was just going to slam the door in her face. "Are you just never going to talk to him again?"

It's almost the same question Madi asked, which is funny too. But that's kind of the magic of Bellamy--it's hard to stay mad at him, once you're talking to him. And she knows he has a thousand good arguments for why he did what he did; he laid them all out in an email, and even in email form, they're compelling. He thought Madi would do it anyway, he thought she would be safer with him, he knows that if he got an email from someone claiming to be his father, he'd _still_ go, and damn the risk.

He doesn't say that he loves Madi and can't pretend to be as uninvolved in her life and decisions as Raven and Monty and Murphy are, but he probably would, in person. And she wouldn't know how to keep on being mad at him, which is all she has right now. 

"Yeah," she tells Raven. "I'm not."

Her jaw works. "Just like that, huh?"

"Just like _what_?" she demands, because she can't snap at Bellamy and she doesn't want to snap at Madi and Raven is here and trying to make peace and she's fucking tired of people asking her to do something she can't. Something she shouldn't have to do. "He took my kid, Raven. He drove her to meet some guy from the internet who could have been planning to kidnap her or worse, and he left me a note saying he was sorry and hoped I'd understand. I didn't make him do that."

"He was right," she says. Clarke loves Raven, but she says things like that sometimes, makes these proclamations like the world is black and white. Like she's not allowed to both understand and feel like he ripped her heart out.

Like only one of them can have a valid perspective, and it was him.

"You're not telling me anything new. I can't get over it, okay? I can't just--go back and act like this never happened. He _took my daughter_ , Raven, I don't have to let that go. I don't need you to understand, but--"

"I understand," she says, voice colder than Clarke's ever heard it. That should be her cue to back the hell off, but it's too late.

"Yeah? Then explain it to me."

Raven looks at her like she's a problematic dataset, like a program that isn't running correctly. Like she's something that needs to fixed, but also something beneath her, something that's pissing her off. "Finn was my family, too, and he decided he wanted you instead of me. He picked you and I had to watch you date for months, and then you decided you didn't even want him. My family got fucked to hell and back, and I lived with that, because it was worth it. I got over it."

Clarke won't know for years if Raven thought this argument would work, or if she's just so mad that she wants to hurt Clarke however she can. She hadn't thought of Finn and what happened between them for years; to her, it's the story of how she met Raven, not exactly _cute_ , but--

But she didn't know Raven was holding a grudge like that. She really thought Raven _had_ gotten over it.

Before this, there had been some small part of her that wanted to tell Raven what happened. If the argument had gotten bad enough, Clarke would have pulled her own trump card, told Raven she was in love with Bellamy and couldn't do it. She might have laid it out to see what she said. Maybe she would have understood.

Except now, it suddenly feels like Finn all over again, Clarke getting in the way of another relationship. Clarke plowing in and fucking people over, but this time she'd _know_.

"Yeah, I can tell you're really over it," she says, glacial. "But you know what? Just because you did that, it doesn't mean I have to. You let it go, you're a better person than I am. But I'm not going to be okay with this. We're done."

Her jaw works, but finally, she nods. "Yeah, we are."

It does the trick; no one else tries to get her back, after that.

*

From time to time, Clarke thinks about reaching out to Bellamy. After Madi goes to college, she thinks it could be safe. Without Madi as a part of their daily lives, maybe they could figure out a new dynamic. Something healthier. She could figure out how to fit into his life. Maybe he's got a kid of his own she could spoil now. That might be nice.

But he'd ask her what happened, and her throat still closes up at the thought of it. She told Madi and, almost a year later, she told Wells, and she's not sure she'll ever tell anyone else the whole story. Even if she told Bellamy, she'd have to leave out the part about how she felt, and it feels incomplete without that. He'd always have follow-up questions, and they'd always end up at the same point. Without a confession, he won't really understand, and the confession is never going to get easier.

She does have friends, after a fashion. She does freelance illustration, and some of her clients are cool. She has Wells, and she made friends with another mom from Madi's high school before she graduated, and every few weeks Charmaine will call her up and ask if she wants to get drunk and hear about her time in the marines and upcoming protests. Which she always does. She joins a few clubs, a bi+ meetup and a feminist book club, and that's all the socialization she really _needs_ ; she stumbled into a large-ish friend group, and it honestly kind of baffled her. 

Madi's sophomore year, she meets a woman named Niylah who runs a gallery, and they flirt for a while and even sleep together for a few times. 

She thinks about reaching out to Bellamybas she lies in bed with Niylah asleep by her side, that first time, like her existence is somehow proof that Clarke is over it. It's an unfair, red-hot thought: I can't still be upset about him because I fucked someone else.

She doesn't call. 

And then, Madi gets engaged and says, "I think I want Bellamy at the wedding."

It's careful, the way she says it. If Clarke says no, she thinks Madi will listen. It won't be like it was before, when Madi wants this and doesn't care if Clarke approves. If she says she can't deal with Bellamy, Madi will let it go.

"That makes sense," she says, putting it off.

"Yeah, but what do you think?"

What she thinks is that she doesn't actually _know_. The Bellamy she remembers loves people fiercely, loves them forever. There's no way he won't want to come to the wedding. He'll probably be thrilled.

What she's less sure about is how he'll feel about seeing her. The last thing he said was that he missed them, both of them, and he still might.

What do you say to someone after six years of radio silence?

"I don't know," she says. "But I guess I'll find out."

*

In college, Clarke worked for a clinic part-time over the summer, and sometimes she had to call patients. Making the calls was always a little stressful, not just because Clarke was a phone-hating millennial. Because of patient privacy laws, she couldn't give out any information to anyone other than the patient or their guarantor, so she always wrote down her lines, the phrasing she would use to establish to whom she was speaking, the carefully vague language that didn't reveal what department she worked with or even the purpose of her call. She even wrote down a script for voicemails, in case she had to leave one, so she wouldn't slip up and reveal something she wasn't supposed to.

She'd completely forgotten about the job and the phone calls until she's staring at her phone, trying to figure out what to say to Bellamy.

It was Madi's suggestion that she call, because Bellamy's first question to Madi would probably be _does Clarke know_ , and he might not believe her even if she said yes. 

_Hi, Bellamy_ , she writes. It's Clarke. Madi's getting married. She wants you to come to the wedding. She wanted me to let you know. 

It feels boring and formal and inadequate; there must be something more and better to say, but she can't come up with it. For all she knows, he's changed his number. He won't pick up, or he'll tell her to fuck off, and any more of a script will be a waste.

Then again, she cut him out of her life, not the other way around. Maybe he'll be happy to hear from her. Stranger things have happened.

She jots down a few notes about Josh, the projected date of the wedding, other information he might ask for. _I was upset, but it's been six years, I think we can move past it_ , she writes, in case he asks about the fight. 

Then she makes a face and scribbles it out, writes _It's not like it's going to happen again, right?_

None of them seem right, but she's not going to do any better. She writes down a script in case she goes to voicemail, reads all the notes over again, and lets out a long breath.

It really might not even be his number anymore. All this could be for nothing.

Only one way to find out.

It rings three times before she hears the line connect, the familiar, gruff voice saying, "Bellamy Blake."

She nearly hangs up, but she swallows past it. He can't see her, so she makes sure her voice is steady, her tone confident. She glances at her notes. "Hi, Bellamy? It's Clarke."

"Oh, hey, Clarke," he says, his tone as smooth as hers. "What can I do for you?"

It's like they're neighbors or something, their relationship unstrained but devoid of history, of intimacy. It's like he thinks she wants to borrow sugar.

"Madi's getting married," she says, returning to her script with an exhalation of breath that might be a laugh.

"Already?" he asks, incredulous, the calm front cracking under the shock.

It's not like she didn't think the exact same thing, but she thought it a year ago, when the two of them first mentioned, casually, that they'd probably get married after graduation. 

She's happy for them, but it also feels like she should ask them to teach her how to live her best life.

"They've been friends since freshman year of college. And dating since junior. I was worried when it was so serious, but--it is that serious."

"So, tell me about them," he says, and the casual neutral pronoun makes her heart ache. It's not a surprise from Bellamy, but it's always nice. "Madi's fiance."

She can't read his tone anymore, which she hates. It would be so much easier if she could see him. "He's great. They were roommates freshman year, and then he started transitioning over the summer after that. Which is probably the only reason it took them until junior year to figure it out."

He makes an odd noise. "That's not that long."

"You haven't seen them together," she says without thinking, and it feels like the whole conversation is a maze, and she keeps running into six-year-old dead ends. She removed him from Madi's life, and now she's reminding him of the fact.

Thanks goodness for the script. "Anyway. She wants you to come to the wedding, and she wanted me to tell you. So you wouldn't think she was going behind my back," she adds, picking at the scar. 

Bellamy doesn't miss a beat, which is nice. "If she invited me, I would have come anyway."

"I figured, but she wanted me to do it anyway. And I thought it couldn't hurt." It feels like a lie as soon as she says it, but it's not like he would get through the wedding without seeing her. Really, it's good to get it out of the way.

"Sure," he says, like he's thinking the same thing. "Are you still in Boston?"

"Yeah. The wedding is out in Western Massachusetts, though. That's where Josh's family is from."

"Josh is the groom?"

"Yeah."

"And his family is good? With everything."

He is definitely ready to fight Josh's entire family if they don't love him and use his correct pronouns. "Yeah. They run a farm share and make their own clothes out of hemp, they were so supportive it verged on parody."

"That's not a bad thing."

"It's not. Madi was so relieved. I was too. And she really wants you there."

The pause is long enough that she starts to panic. To really think that he might say no. For all she knows, he's moved on completely, doesn't think of them at all. 

But when he finally speaks, he asks, "What about you?"

It takes a second to make her voice work. "Me?"

"Do you want me there?"

She looks at her notes again, weighing her options. Is this when she's supposed to tell him it was a long time ago? Or when she says that it means a lot to Madi? Nothing she planned feels right.

She lets a shaking breath. "Yeah, I do."

"Okay. Yeah, of course I'll come." He laughs a little. "Jesus, I can't believe she's getting married."

"Yeah, I can't either." She clears her throat. "So we'll follow up soon? Get your address and stuff for the invitations."

"Yeah, of course."

Her notes don't offer anything else to say, any way to prolong the conversation. It's already gone on for longer than she was really expecting, longer than she could have hoped.

"So, I guess I'll see you at the wedding," says Bellamy, apparently ready to be done.

The wedding is months and months away; Clarke can see every hour stretching before her. It's not very long, compared to six years. But she already hasn't seen him for all that time; it seems profoundly unfair that she'll keep on not seeing him until October.

But she always could have called him before.

"Yeah," she says. "See you there."

After the call disconnects, she just stares at the phone for a minute, at the name Bellamy Blake, which has been in her contacts and functional for six years, which she could have called and he would have picked up.

Then she texts the contact to Madi.

**Me** : He's in  
You can take it from here 

**Madi** : Take what?

**Me** : Communications?  
We need to get his address, number of guests, etc  
Everyone will probably be happier if you do it

**Madi** : Was it really that bad?

It's a hard question to answer. She would have stayed on that phone for another hour or two trying to dodge conversational potholes while she tried to figure out his life, but she's not sure she should have. And, if she's honest, she still has no idea what she wants out of all this.

She still doesn't think she'd know how to be his friend.

_It was weird_ , she says, which is certainly true. And then, _I just think you should do it_.

Madi doesn't argue, and she only regrets it a little.

*

Madi doesn't generally use the phone, so when she calls a few days later Clarke assumes the worst. Something happened to Josh, the wedding is off, she didn't get a job.

"Hey, what's up?" she asks, only a little frantic. "Is Josh okay?"

To her relief, Madi laughs. "Everything's fine. I called Bellamy. He says he'll send everyone's addresses and that he's divorced." 

"Oh," says Clarke, less a statement than a loud breath.

Somehow, it had never occurred to her that he might be _divorced_. She'd wondered sometimes if he got married at all, if maybe something had happened and he and Echo broke up. But she'd just kind of assumed that if Bellamy got married, he'd stay married. He's the loyal type.

"Okay," she says, when Madi doesn't keep going. "Who's everyone? For addresses."

"Clarke!"

"What?"

"He's _divorced_. And he said he didn't need a plus one," she adds, before Clarke can figure out the right way to remind her that _divorced_ and _single_ aren't synonyms.

Which is probably good, because that's not really the point. 

"I'm just saying, maybe you can talk to him again. I'm an adult and he's not married, so--that's most of your issues there, right?"

It's cute that Madi really seems to think she only has two issues.

"Is Raven one of the people you're inviting?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"What did Bellamy say about that?" comes out like deja vu, like muscle memory. She used to say it so often, when the three of them lived together.

They were always hurtling towards disaster.

"He said she wanted to know if she was invited. I told him I thought you'd want him to follow up."

In a way, she'd much rather have no one but Bellamy come. Once she's sorted things out with him, it feels like everyone else--Raven possibly aside--will come easily. He was always the fracture point.

But it's not like she can just tell Madi _not_ to invite these people to her wedding. Madi never stopped loving them, any more than Clarke did, and unlike Clarke, she didn't even need to step away from them. She did that for Clarke, which means Clarke can do this for her.

"Yeah, I think it's better if you two handle all this stuff."

"You really don't care that he's single?" Madi asks, wistful, and Clarke doesn't know what to say. She was in love with him for so long, and part of her still is, but the person she's in love with isn't the person she talked to on the phone. She doesn't know who Bellamy is right now, and her loss probably shaped him, the same way his loss shaped her. And it's not just her; he's been married and gotten divorced. And that leaves aside whatever's going on with Octavia, and how much of a hole Madi left in his life. He might be a totally different person, now.

But that's not what Madi asked. "I care, but not like you're thinking. I wouldn't get my hopes up about--at best, I think we'll get some closure. Don't expect us to be friends again after this, Madi, let alone anything else."

"What if he wants to? I'm not saying you will be, but--maybe you could be."

She doesn't like lying to Madi, but it's not really a lie, to entertain the existence of better futures. The world can be half full, for a minute.

"Maybe, yeah," she says. "That would be nice."

*

Entertaining the existence of a better future is pretty low-effort and involves absolutely no action in the present, which is why Clarke can do it. She thinks that it's possible the wedding will go well, and she and Bellamy will have a conversation that tiptoes around what actually happened, and maybe they'll keep talking after. It's not likely, but it's not _impossible_ either. And it's easy, idle fantasy to have, like when she used to think about running into him by chance and having a conversation. In a few months, it will feel concrete, pressing even, when she's actually going to be seeing him in the immediate future, but for now, she has time.

Or she does, until Bellamy _calls her_.

He's so lucky he didn't know she was calling him. He didn't have to have the moment of terror where he saw her name, the panic of wondering why she'd be calling, and he almost certainly didn't drop his phone under the couch and have to scramble to find it before the call went to voicemail.

"Bellamy?" she asks, hopeful and a little breathless. It's going to be a butt-dial and she's going to be so embarrassed.

"Hi," he says. She's never done hard drugs, but she thinks his voice must be like the first hit when you're addicted, the instantaneous relief mingled with the knowledge that it's _wrong_ to be doing this.

She swallows, pastes on a smile even though he can't see her. "Hi. What's up?"

"I just got the save-the-date."

It doesn't seem like it should be a very big deal. He knew it was coming. Maybe he can't make it? Or he knows Josh's family and hates them? But he doesn't sound upset.

"Okay," she says, drawing the word out. "I'm glad it made it?"

"Yeah. I just, uh--" He sighs, like he's giving up. "It's Madi's wedding. I want to help. I was thinking about buying her registry, but that seemed excessive. And fiscally irresponsible."

Clarke finds a grin growing on her face before she has the chance to second-guess it, before she even realizes it. Bellamy might not be the version of himself she loved anymore, but he's still _Bellamy_ , at his core.

"Yeah, leave something for the other guests. What kind of help were you thinking?"

"I don't know, what do you need for a wedding?"

He sounds genuinely perplexed, and Clarke is just as confused. "Didn't you _have_ a wedding?" 

"Not like this. We just went to a justice of the peace. We didn't even dress up that much."

It sounds like the kind of thing they'd do, and Clarke squirrels the knowledge away, another piece in the puzzle of the last six years of Bellamy's life. If she had her way, all she'd do is ask him questions, fill in more gaps, but she knows better.

If she's lucky, she'll have time to do that later.

"There are plenty of expenses," she says instead. "How much do you want to spend? Or do you just want to donate time?"

"Either. Not to be weird, but I was all ready to go all-out for my sister's wedding and I couldn't, so I think it's all coming out now."

She doesn't think it's supposed to be a trap, which must be why it doesn't feel like one. But it also feels like before, like they're just--talking. She can picture him so clearly, like he's here, the expression on his face, the wry twist of his smile, self-deprecating as he always is when he talks about his sister.

It feels like she knows her lines. 

"Yeah, not weird at all," she says first, the obligatory teasing, and then she asks, "How is she? Your sister."

As soon as the words are out, she knows they're a mistake. Updates on Octavia require a pretty high level of friendship for Bellamy, and she knew they weren't there yet. Just because Bellamy slipped up, it didn't mean she had to. It was such an obvious mistake to make.

"None of your business," he says, before she can apologize.

"No, sorry." She clears her throat, makes her voice cheerful. "I can ask Madi if there's anything you can help with? She can get in touch."

Bellamy lets out a breath, and then he's back to normal too. "I figured she'd be busy. I don't want to put more on her plate. That would be a shitty favor."

As ways to get past awkward shit goes, they could do worse than just pretending it never happened. They're already pretending some other awkward shit never happened, they might as well keep going.

"I can get in touch, then."

"Yeah. She's got my email, I assume she can pass it along."

That sounds a lot less stressful, honestly. "Cool. Thanks for calling," she adds, despite her better judgement. "It means a lot to her."

"Of course. She's still my--"

And that's the problem right there. There isn't a word for what Bellamy and Madi were to each other, let alone what they are now. The three of them were never a formal unit, and when they fell apart, there weren't even words for what they lost.

When there isn't a word, it feels like you're nothing. But he's never been nothing, not to either her or to Madi.

"Yeah," she says. "I'll let you know."

"Great. Talk to you later."

He hangs up without waiting for her response, and Clarke puts her head down on the coffee table for a minute. It's not like she really thought things were cool, and really the only problem is that her instincts got ahead of her brain. She's not used to interacting with Bellamy without being his friend.

So email will be good. Baby steps. 

She lets out a breath, straightens up, and opens up her laptop to get started on a list of things for him to do.

*

After dinner, she calls Madi to get his email address and make sure she didn't forget anything. It's clear that Madi wants to offer commentary on the fact that Bellamy called, but she knows Clarke well enough not to push. She just reminds Clarke to thank him and make sure he knows he has no obligation to do this.

Clarke still waits until the next day to send the message, and then she tries not to feel anxious about it even as a response doesn't come. It's not like there's any big hurry. She figures she'll give him a week--maybe even two, if she can make it--to respond, and if he hasn't by then, she'll follow-up. 

On Tuesday, he texts her, and it's not a big deal at first. He's acting like nothing happened, like he did on the phone, and that's basically fine by Clarke. If he's got boundaries, she'd sort of like to establish them explicitly, but that feels unspeakably, impossibly awkward. Especially since that would also involve _her_ setting boundaries too, and those boundaries would involve either explanations or firm lines about not explaining things, neither of which she's ready for.

She can make jokes and talk about Madi and Josh and just avoid any personal stuff entirely. She can follow his lead. Except--

**Bellamy** : Maybe that can be my job  
Talking you through your crises

Clarke just stares at the message for a few long moments, trying to figure out an explanation for it that isn't _I want to help you out with this_. That isn't _I want to interact with you more_. An explanation that makes sense in the interpretation she has of her life right now, the one where Bellamy realized he was falling back into old patterns and couldn't and needed to put space between them.

This is the polar opposite of space. 

She can think of a few things to say, but none of them turn into real, coherent sentences she could send to him. She doesn't know how to have this conversation, which is how she finds herself actually _calling_ , again, without even having written up a script. Without any real idea of whether or not he'll even pick up.

But he does, pretty promptly. even. "Hello?"

"Hey. Sorry, I thought this might be--" She scrambles a little. "Faster."

"Yeah, no problem," he says. His voice is warm and genuine, with no apparent tension. In the last few days he has apparently decided--something. She's not actually sure what. "Since we're both around."

"Yeah. What do you see yourself doing in this, um, capacity?"

"I figure you could use someone to help you with--stuff." Apparently they're both having a little trouble with vocabulary right now. "Just what you're worrying about. And you don't want it to be Madi. So whenever you need to freak out, you can text me, and we can come up with a plan."

It feels almost like they're drawing up a contract for what used to come naturally. For so many years, Bellamy was that person for her, the one she called when she needed someone to talk her down, to help her through things. It's a logical, natural way for him to contribute to the wedding planning, but it benefits her a lot more than Madi, and if he's really serious, it's going to involve a _lot_ of her talking to him, especially as the wedding gets closer.

He has to know what he's getting himself into--hell, that has to be why he _offered_ \--but she still can't quite believe it

"Could we get coffee?" she asks.

It's hard to be sure, but she thinks that's a sigh of relief. "Yeah. It's summer so I'm pretty free."

Her AC is on the fritz, so she's been hanging out at Flour all day, getting jittery on too many iced coffees. It's either the best or worst time to meet with him, but she doesn't want to wait regardless. "How's now?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Now works."

They agree to just meet at Flour, which is both nice for her and kind of awful, since she has nothing to do but wait for him. She could go home and shower, but that feels excessive and more than a little pathetic. Instead, she goes to the bathroom, inspects herself critically in the mirror. What did she look like, six years ago? That was before she decided she liked her hair shorter. She was definitely thinner, went to the gym more often. Younger in a thousand ways she doesn't notice unless she's looking at a picture.

She washes her face, makes sure her hair is okay and there's nothing in her teeth, and then goes back to her table and checks and rechecks every single wedding spreadsheet in case he asks to see them. And to keep her hands busy.

The goal is to distract herself, but it doesn't actually work. Every time the door opens, her eyes dart up, long before there's any way the person coming in could be Bellamy. Every voice she hears could be his voice, every name the barista calls out on an order could be his name, every shadow that passes her table could be his shadow.

When he does come in, she spots him immediately, and drops her eyes back to her laptop before she's even gotten a good look. She can still see him out of the corner of her eye, around the edges of the screen, enough to be sure it's him, but not enough to really get a good look.

But he saw her too, because he's coming over, and his voice is warm when he says, "Hi."

"Hi. Thanks for coming out. Are you still in Brighton?" she asks, the question spilling out even though she _knows_ he doesn't. She saw his address on Madi's spreadsheet of wedding invitations. She might not remember it, but he definitely moved.

He doesn't call her out on it, at least. "Brookline, so close enough. Are you still around here?"

It's not actually sad, she knows. She owns her condo, she doesn't _need_ to move. It's nice and she has plenty of room. But it's hard not to feel like she's been standing still all this time. "Same place, yeah. I might sell once Madi and Josh have settled."

"I've got a billion questions," he says, with a smile that's somehow even better than she remembered. "But let me get a coffee first?"

This time, she does let herself look at him, off and on, mostly casual. He looks older without looking that different, the same person on fast forward. She spotted a few streaks of silver in his hair, but it's not a _bad_ look on him. If anything, she could live with him looking a lot less good than he does. It would be nice if he'd aged poorly.

He smiles again when he gets back to the table, teeth bright and white, glasses slightly crooked. Clarke could probably do nothing but stare at him for an hour cataloging differences and not get bored.

But he asks, "So, where are Madi and Josh settling?" and she settles in to filling him in, letting him lead the way, trying to only ask him things he's already asked her.

Still, when the conversation lulls, he takes a careful second before he says, "Octavia is--complicated."

As a gesture, it feels difficult to misinterpret. She's allowed to ask about Octavia. It _is_ her business. She doesn't know what that _means_ , though. If she's forgiven, if he wants to air all their dirty laundry, if he just feels bad for lashing out.

"She calls now," he's saying, and she tries to actually listen, instead of reading into the gesture. "Checks in. She's finally convinced that if I know where she is, I won't track her down."

It takes her a second to come up with an actual question. "Do you ever get to see her?" 

"Christmas, sometimes. I actually picked a fight a few years ago," he offers, like he doesn't quite believe it either.

"Really?"

He smiles a little. "It was just after the divorce." Clarke feels like she must visibly perk up, a predator hearing movement in the grass, but he doesn't react. "She came back because she didn't want me to be alone, but the whole time--she acted like she was doing me this huge favor, and I didn't even ask her to. I would have been fine. We ended up just throwing our shitty childhoods at each other until we ran out of stuff to say. It sucked at the time, but I think it helped."

"Wow."

"I also have a therapist now," he says with a small smile. "Highly recommended."

It's amazing, how much easier talking to him is when she can see him. Not that she can't fuck up, but it feels like she's hearing everything now, instead of every other word. Bellamy's face does half the talking for him.

So she's not actually worried when she says, "Can I ask about the divorce?"

His shrug is fluid, and she believes his nonchalance. "Not much to say. We had a bad year. Echo lost her job and decided she needed to be somewhere else, and I didn't want to leave. We went back and forth for a few months and finally decided the relationship wasn't working. She lives in California and sometimes we text each other about _Survivor_."

"You always did have the easiest breakups," she says, awed and more than a little jealous. He had an actual _divorce_ and still chats with his ex. They're on good terms. If he'd been in her shoes, he probably would have figured out how to keep their friendship alive. He could have done it.

He clears his throat, like he's feeling as awkward as she is. "What about you? Any trauma you want to fill me in on?"

_None I want to fill you in on_ , she thinks, but what she says is, "Madi went to college, that was tough." Which is just as true, but less complicated. 

"Where was she again?"

"Brown. It was kind of worse than if she was farther away, honestly? I knew she could have come home on weekends but she didn't, and I knew I could drive down, but it would be weird. So I didn't see her, but I missed her all the time."

It feels a little weird after she says it, given their history, but Bellamy doesn't seem to notice. "So New York will be a little better. Since she's farther away."

"A little, yeah." There's more to say, but delving into the past still feels dangerous. And somewhat pointless. What she wants to know is what happens next. 

He straightens when she meets his eyes, like he knows this is what really matters too. "So, you want to talk me through my first crisis?"

"Is it about vegetable loaves?" he jokes.

"Seating charts."

He doesn't immediately make the connection, but he _is_ immediately on board to help. "How many guests are there?"

"About fifty. Ten from each family, and then thirty friends. About. Five tables with ten people each makes the most sense, but that puts me at your table. Which--"

That almost clears it up, except that he offers, "Raven is still pissed at you," like she might not know. 

"I figured, yeah."

"Everyone else will follow our lead, but--" He runs his hand through his hair, uncomfortably helpless. "You probably need to talk to her. I can't patch that one up on my own."

"No, probably not. If I can't sit with you, there should be room with Josh's family. I think they've just got nine. It'll just be awkward if Wells can make it." He could always sit with Bellamy and the others, though; he's good with everyone.

Fuck, she needs to tell Wells what's going on. He's going to have a field day with this one, but it would be worse if he had the field day at the actual wedding.

"You don't even want to try?" Bellamy asks, with the worst kind of smile--sad, but not surprised.

"Always have a plan B."

Bellamy takes a sip of coffee like he's trying to drown his response. "Solid advice. Is that the only seating crisis?"

It is, but it's not the only crisis in general. Bellamy really does seem to want to know what's going on, knows she'll have spreadsheets and wants to see them. It's strange, remembering how well he knows her while there's still this gaping omission between them. 

He can't know, right? If he knew, he'd say something. He would have tried to come up with some solution. 

Clarke's the one to finally make herself say, "Okay, I think that's it. And I should probably get going."

Bellamy checks his phone. "Oh, yeah, it's getting late." He stands and shakes his shoulders out, pauses just long enough that she actually thinks he might ask her if she wants to get dinner or something.

"I feel like we should hug," he says instead, and she laughs the tension out.

"It feels like that, right?"

There's still a second of delay, but it was _his_ idea, so she moves in, and that breaks the spell. Bellamy wraps her up and she rests her face against his neck. He smells the same as he used to, the same cologne, the same shampoo, the same overwhelming scent of _home_ , and she never wants to leave.

Which is why she makes herself.

"Okay. So--we'll be in touch?"

He nods. "Yeah. Just text me all your issues and we'll figure something out."

_I was in love with six years ago and might be again_ would be one hell of a text. "Cool. Thanks, Bellamy."

"Sure. You're walking back past the train station, right?"

"I was going to stop for wine," she says. "Since I'm here."

He snorts. "Yeah, I should have guessed. I can wait for you?"

"If I was going to the train, yes," she says, her smile goofy but inevitable. He's just so--Bellamy. "Go home, I'll text you later."

"Have fun with your wine," he says, and Clarke watches him go for way too long.

Then she gets three bottles of wine and goes home.

*

**Me** : WELLS  
IM DURNK AND I NEED YO

**Wells** : I keep telling you  
If you have caps on autocorrect can't help you  
It wants to  
You have to let it do its job

**Me** : Bellamy is coming to Madi's wedding 

**Wells** : Wow  
Did she tell you she was inviting him?

**Clarke** : Yeah she had me call  
And it was ok  
Then he calls me and that was weird   
And then we got coffee and he's still Bellamy 

The call isn't a surprise, but she still greets Wells with, "I am talking on the phone way too much right now. And my autocorrect was working!"

"You were taking forever. And I assume it's going to get more complicated."

"I don't know what to do."

"What do you want to do?"

Clarke pauses. She's had most of the first bottle of wine and plans to have the rest of it, but she's a fairly coherent kind of drunk. And definitely focused. It's not the first time she's gotten drunk and moaned to Wells about Bellamy, but it's the first time in a while, and the first time when she's so simultaneously optimistic and terrified.

"I don't know that either," she says.

"I'm guessing if he's still Bellamy, that means you're still in love with him."

"So far." She sighs. "He got divorced."

"So it could actually work."

"No, it couldn't!" she says, way too loud. Good thing her walls are thick; she doesn't want Mrs. Jenkins from downstairs coming over to check in. She's such a fucking busybody. "It couldn't, right?"

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Most of a bottle of wine. I earned it."

"I never said you didn't." He sighs. "Look, I have no idea what's going on, obviously. You're semi-coherent and you don't actually want to tell me shit. But what I'm getting is your almost-ex is single and you're talking to him again. What's the problem?"

"I ghosted him six years ago and he doesn't know why."

"So why don't you tell him? See what he says?"

"You just want me to tell him I was in love with him and cut him out of my life because I couldn't handle it?"

"Hey," says Wells, gentle. "You know that's not what happened. You were in a genuinely shitty situation, okay? You knew that having him in your life wasn't healthy, and I don't blame you for not telling him back then. If he does? That says something about _him_. But you can't tell me you don't think he'd get it."

Clarke leans back on the couch, closing her eyes and letting the strange weightless feeling of being drunk in the dark take over for for a few seconds, a break from her thoughts.

"I think he would. But--it's still been six years. What if he gets it and he lets me down easy and he still thinks he's better off without me?"

"He called you, right? Whose idea was it to have coffee?"

"Mine. He texted me, and then I called him, and he told me what was going on with his sister. And that's when we had coffee."

"All that kind of sounds like he wants to be friends, you know? It's not like he needs to be polite to you. He could just tell you to fuck off."

"I know." She closes her eyes again. "Tell me it's okay to not tell him."

"Not tell him what?"

"Anything. Not why I stopped talking to him, not how I feel. I just--I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm not saying it has to be today," says Wells, gentle. "Or tomorrow, or even--you can wait. But I think you should tell him, Clarke. Once you know what you want."

She sighs. "It can't still be him, right? Not--it's been six years. How sad would that be?"

"Some people would say it's romantic."

"Pathetic."

"Well, either way. You're single, apparently he's single, you might still like him. Don't tell me you're going to ignore it just because you think it's kind of sad that you had good taste in guys when you were twenty-eight."

That makes her laugh. "He's looking really good right now. You should come to the wedding just to see."

"Yeah, not because Madi's getting married. Just to check out Bellamy."

"Okay, as a bonus."

"I'll think about it. But I think you should try not to worry. I know that's your thing, but--think about it this way. He knows you were so pissed at him, you didn't talk to him for six years. There are worse ways to start over than both of you being careful and taking it slow."

"That's true. I'm going to finish my wine."

"Don't drunk-dial him."

"I never did before, I won't start now."

"Have you talked to any of your other friends yet?"

She makes a face. "No. It's going to suck."

"You know you can call whenever, right?" he asks, gentle. Wells is, perhaps, the kindest person in the entire world. Clarke doesn't know what she did to be so lucky. "You don't have to be drunk."

"I know."

"Okay. Keep me posted."

"Yeah. I'll let you know."

*

The next morning, Clarke comes up with a plan. She and Bellamy are, by her estimation, maybe about a third as close as they used to be. They're not starting over from zero, she doesn't have to worry that she can never talk to him. But they aren't close like they used to be, and she can adjust her actions and expectations accordingly. Before, they talked every day, so now, it can be every few days. Before, they saw each other once or twice a week, now it can be once every couple weeks. They can build to more.

Judging from how Bellamy communicates with her, he's doing something similar, being careful with how much he interacts with her and when and how. It would be encouraging, except that she doesn't know _why_ he's doing it. Is he holding himself back from talking more, like she is, or is he reminding himself periodically to get in touch, to maintain the relationship? Does he want more, or less? Or is he just worried about doing something wrong, like she is?

It's the kind of question that could easily be answered if she just talked to him, but she's still not ready. Still doesn't even really know what she wants to say, if she's honest. She wants him to understand and forgive her, and for that to happen, it feels like she has to do everything exactly right.

While she's fretting about all the Bellamy stuff, she does think about other things, obviously. She has a job to do and a wedding to plan and a life to live. What she doesn't think about, very deliberately, is Raven and the rest of their mutual friends, and resolving things with them. That feels like something that has to wait until she's talked to Bellamy. He deserves to be the first to know.

But, honestly, if he wanted to be the first, he shouldn't have left her alone with Raven.

It had been an awkward but not awful evening, up until this point. Murphy is always good for some low stakes bickering, and Raven is irritated without being aggressive. Bellamy is Bellamy, and it's getting harder and harder to not be in love with him all over again. But that's beside the point, right now. With him and Murphy gone, it's just her and Raven, watching each other like they're in a Western, waiting to be told to draw before the fateful duel.

"So," Raven finally says. "You're still pissed at him?"

"Not really," she admits. "Not _pissed_. Not anymore. I understand why he did what he did, but--" She lets out a breath. "I understand why I did it, too."

"Yeah? Why?"

She wets her lips. "Which part?"

"Honestly? All of it. I never got why you didn't want Madi to even see the guy."

It's not what Clarke was expecting, and that answer is harder to come back to. The aftermath has loomed so much larger than the actual fight for so long that she doesn't have it at the tips of her mental fingers anymore.

"I didn't think it was safe, for one thing. And, honestly? I was really pissed at Madi for giving away enough personal information online that someone could convincingly argue they were related to her."

To her surprise, Raven snorts a laugh. "Yeah, okay."

It's been six years for her too, Clarke realizes. The anger can feel fresh, but it's not, not really.

"It was terrifying," she says, soft, for the first time. "Not just--yeah, I thought it could go badly. But I was scared it would go well, too. What if she met her cousin and he was this cool guy with a great life and he wanted to take her? What if I lost her?"

"I was surprised you didn't." Her voice is more thoughtful than accusatory. "Like--I was half expecting her to show up at Bellamy's door with a bag asking if she could stay for a while."

"Me too."

"You must have told her a pretty good story."

"I told her the truth."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"That's the big question." She takes a long sip of her drink. "You can't tell Bellamy."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Why not?"

"Because I should be the one to tell him, and I'm not ready yet."

"But you're going to?"

It's not like the agreement has a timeline attached. "Yeah."

"Okay, so--"

"So I was in love with him."

It's not the bombshell she was hoping for; Raven doesn't even blink. "And?"

"And he was engaged to someone else and still making parenting decisions in Madi's life. That wasn't a sustainable situation, you have to get that. And I know some of it was my fault, I shouldn't have adopted a kid when I was living with someone like that, but--"

"But you ended up there and you didn't know how to get out."

"Pretty much."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her mouth twists. "Finn, all over again."

"What?"

Raven looks genuinely confused, like the connection is lost on her, and Clarke's heart constricts. "I wasn't going to try to break up another relationship just because I fell for the wrong guy."

"Jesus, Clarke. I know that's not what happened with Finn, okay?"

"Yeah? So what were you trying to prove there? Other than that you never forgave me."

"That's not what I was trying to prove." She huffs. "Look, what it looked like to me? Stuff got hard with Bellamy, your best fucking friend in the whole world, and you gave up. It looked like you fucked up and you were too much of a stubborn asshole to admit it, so you were burning down your life. And I thought about doing that, you know? When Finn happened. I thought about saying fuck it to everyone and everything. But I think it would have been a mistake."

"It sounded like you were still holding a grudge and wanted to kick me when I was down."

"I didn't know you were down. I thought you were on your high horse because Bellamy betrayed you or something."

"He kind of did," she can't help saying. "I get why he did, but that doesn't make it suddenly okay. But--I think if I wasn't in love with him, we could have figured it out. I would have known how to have a conversation with him about who he could be to Madi when he didn't live with us anymore."

Raven's quiet for a long time, and Clarke nurses her cider, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. Raven isn't, in fact, some righteous judge of objective truth. If she tells Clarke she's forgiven, it doesn't make everything okay, any more than this not being enough for her would make her wrong.

"Okay, I get it," she says, finally. "I really don't know what the fuck I would have done if I were you."

Clarke smiles a little. "Thanks, I think."

"Maybe I would have tried to tell Bellamy, but--"

"He was engaged. He married her." 

"Yeah."

"He seemed pretty okay with the divorce," she says, hesitant. "Like--really well adjusted."

"He and Echo were fine together," she says, with a shrug. "Not, like, couple of the year or anything. I figured they'd either stay together because it was fine or break up because it wasn't that good."

"That's what I thought, and then they got engaged."

"You could have told me before the fight," she says. "That you were into him. When they got engaged."

"What would you have told me to do?"

Raven considers. "Trust him," she settles on, and Clarke winces.

"I didn't--"

"I know." She sighs. "So what about now?"

"Now?"

"He's single. You still in love with him?"

"Not still. Again."

"Cool." She takes a sip of her beer. "I want to say everything's great now, but--"

"It's still kind of weird. I couldn't believe you threw Finn at me like that," she says. "It felt like--I thought everything was fine, and it turned out you'd just been waiting for the right time to tell me you weren't over it."

"Yeah," says Raven. "Maybe I kind of was." It makes her laugh, and Raven smirks too. "Hey, you said it, not me. I guess I just--I don't know. You threw away Bellamy, and everyone knew he was your favorite. If you'd let go of him that easy, I figured I didn't have much of a chance." She sighs. "Maybe we weren't as good friends as we thought."

Clarke's not sure it's as simple as that, but maybe she's just being stubborn. She did love Raven, would have said she was her third closest friend, after Bellamy and Wells, but their foundation was rotten, right from the start. Anything they built on it would be prone to collapse. "Maybe not." She worries her lip. "So maybe we try again. If I don't fuck it up with Bellamy."

"I think you'll be fine."

It's easy to believe, when Raven says it. She always sounds so sure. "Yeah?"

"Dude, you ghosted him six years ago and he still wants you back. I'm not saying I'm sure he wants to marry you, but I know he doesn't want to lose you again."

"I don't want to lose him either."

"Cool," says Raven. "So you guys can figure it out, and we'll go from there."

It feels like a lot steadier ground than they started from before, and Clarke can't help a smile.

One down, one to go.

*

For a solid week, she figures Raven will tell Bellamy everything. Not because she thinks Raven hates her and wants to sabotage her, but because she's Bellamy's friend more than Clarke's and she assumes Raven thinks Bellamy deserves to know what happened. Plus, she did say she thought Clarke would be fine. Maybe she thinks Clarke needs a little nudge, too.

And, honestly, there's a part of her that wants that. Part of her is hoping Raven will do it and she doesn't have to. That would be so much easier.

But the days go by, and Bellamy doesn't say anything. Or, rather, he says plenty, but nothing about the fight, or Clarke and Raven's conversation. He keeps texting her, calling her, wanting to spend time with her, and she finally figures, well--maybe she'll get lucky. Maybe she won't have to say anything and things will just fall into place. That's how she always thought it would happen, before, that everything would just line up on its own.

Then again, it's not like that worked the last time. If she wants it to work this time, she should probably do something differently. That's supposed to be the definition of insanity, right? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

But this doesn't feel like she's doing the same things, either. Everything still feels brand new.

So the text-- _I know it's short notice, but I'm downtown and deciding where to go. Want to do dinner?_ \--is simultaneously no big deal and thrilling. It's not what he would have said before. Before, he wouldn't have made excuses, wouldn't have explained himself. But he still wants to get dinner with her, so--that's good, right? New and the same, all at once.

**Me** : I don't have anything to feed you  
I was going to order something  
If you want to pick it up on your way in, that would be good

**Bellamy** : I can probably do that  
What food do you want?

They figure out a plan, which is good, except with that done, all she has to do is fret. Bellamy hasn't actually been back to her place since the fight, which is bizarre to think about. This was his home for years, and now there's no trace of him. He took all his stuff when he left, and about a year after she stopped talking to him, she completely redid his old room.

She still thinks of it as _Bellamy's room_ , though. It didn't actually work.

She wants to say the whole night feels different as soon as he shows up, but it's hard to say how much of that is hindsight. Really, every time she sees him feels charged these days, because she's still not used to it. Just being with him sets her nerves on fire, right from the start. Any night could be the one that tips them into uncharted waters.

He shifts next to her on the couch, nervous, and asks, "Are you and Raven really good?" like he really means something else. 

"We're--fine. I don't know if we're ever going to be friends like we used to be, but we can be--" She pauses, because their old friendship isn't really what they're going for. Their old friendship wasn't actually _good_. It's going to take time because this time, maybe, they're going to do it right. She wants to be careful, to make sure.

"Fine," is still what she settles on. That one is definitely going to happen, no matter what. She doesn't have to oversell it.

"What about us?" Bellamy asks, and her heart starts beating overtime, even if she refuses to show it.

"What about us?"

He shifts on the couch again, not getting closer to her, but not getting farther, either. Like he has to move but doesn't know where to go. "Are we going to be like it was before?"

"I don't know. I know I hurt you," she offers, and he smiles.

"Yeah, but apparently I was responsible for the worst day of your life, so--"

It's supposed to be a joke, or maybe an emergency exit. Something to let her off the hook. "Still," she says. They both hurt each other; one of them doesn't cancel the other out.

"Would you do it again?"

She frowns; he sounds so serious. "Like, if I traveled back in time?"

"No." His throat bobs as he swallows. "If we had another fight, would you drop me?"

"I don't think so," she says, slow. He seems to be really worried, which is probably a side effect of his not knowing _why_ she dropped him. Maybe he really thinks he's always going to be one bad choice away from losing her.

"I'd say I wouldn't do it again, but I don't even know how I'd do it again," he offers. "Unless you're thinking about adopting another kid."

She's not _trying_ to change the subject, but he did bring it up, and she has to smile. "Honestly? I kind of am." It's an idle thought, most of the time, nothing she's looked into yet, but--she could do it again, the whole parenthood thing. She liked it.

Bellamy's eyes widen. "Empty-nesting?"

"I've got all this extra money now."

It makes him laugh, like she hoped it would. "Wow, yeah, that sucks. I feel so bad for you."

"And I liked--" She hesitates, but she has been wanting to talk to _him_ about this. He's always been good at these conversations. "I wasn't perfect at being a parent, but I think I could foster, find another kid who's a good match--"

"I never said it was a bad idea. Especially since they won't be your entire social circle now."

It's not that funny, but it does get a giggle out of her. She _has a social circle_ again. He wants to stay. "Yeah, that was tough on Madi."

"I bet." He meets her eyes, deliberate, getting the conversation back on track. "I wouldn't do it again. With a new kid."

It's an interesting statement. "No? If you could go back in time, what would you do?"

"The same thing," he says, instantly, and Clarke believes it's true and believes he wouldn't do it again all at once. A new kid wouldn't be Madi. "It would suck and I'd hate it, but--I'd do the same thing."

The words come out before she's thought them. "I wouldn't. If it happened again, I'd tell you--" 

Her brain catches up to her mouth, and she realizes with a hot swoop how close she came to just--blurting it out.

Maybe she is ready, after all. 

"You can still tell me," Bellamy offers, cautious. "I feel like you already know my side. Why I did it. But I can explain again, if you want."

"No, I get it. What did you think I'd do?" She's always wondered; she might as well find out. Before she possibly loses him again.

"Honestly? I thought you'd blow up. I figured I'd let you yell at me until you were done and then I'd tell you my side. I thought you might need a break, but--I thought we'd work it out. Madi would talk you around."

Clarke smiles. "She tried."

He leans forward, still caught in his own thoughts. "My therapist told me I needed to stop feeling like I was the wronged party. If I wanted to be friends with you again. I kept saying it was my fault, but I was still pissed at you, and she said I couldn't have it both ways."

"I would have been pissed at me too," she offers, and it feels so strange, once the words are out. They've both acknowledged everyone's feelings were valid, but she's the only one who actually knows what happened.

She clears her throat. "Do you want to know?" 

"Want to?" he asks, with a wry smile. "Yeah, of course. But I don't need to."

"You probably do."

He opens and closes his mouth, finally settles on, "You're the expert," like he's actually incapable of just admitting he's dying to find out what happened.

She lets out a breath, and then it's--not _easy_ , but doable. "I didn't know how to keep you," she admits, soft. "As part of the family. Not when--you didn't live with us anymore, you were engaged to someone else, you had--" She shakes her head. "This whole life you were going to have. You'd get married and have kids and--leave. And I knew you loved Madi, but that didn't--it just made it harder. I couldn't handle you being her dad. And--that's what you were. I didn't see a way out, except for a clean break. I couldn't keep seeing you, if you weren't--"

Her voice dies, but his is firm, immediate, sure. "Raven said I should tell you I'm in love with you. I was going to wait until after Madi got married," he adds, with a nervous little laugh. "In case you stopped talking to me again."

She chokes on her own laugh, swallows it down. "I didn't stop talking to you because _you_ were in love with _me_ ," she says, her voice too shaky to really come across as teasing, but Bellamy doesn't call her out.

Instead he smiles, slides his hand around her neck, slow enough she could stop him, and finally leans in and kisses her, firm, but slow and careful. Leaving no doubts. 

"I sort of figured that was okay," he murmurs, and this time, her laugh is strong and bright.

"Yeah, it's definitely okay." But she worries her lip. "It just feels a little easy."

"It's been, what, fifteen years? How is that easy?"

"Fifteen?"

"Since we met, right?"

"When you put it like that," she says, grinning and leaning in to kiss him again.

They've waited long enough.

*

To Clarke's mind, there are two schools of thought regarding first-date sex: one, you shouldn't, because it might not go anywhere, and two, you might as well, because it might not go anywhere. In general, she doesn't have a hard and fast preference and tends to make up her mind on a case-by-case basis, but she definitely knows she'd regret it if she didn't sleep with Bellamy at least once. Especially now, before school has started, when he can actually stay the night. 

So they're distracted for the rest of the evening, and it's only in the morning that Clarke remembers, "Oh fuck, I have to tell Madi."

Bellamy's brow furrows. "She's not going to be upset, is she?"

"I don't think so? I'm pretty sure no. But--" She sighs. "I just don't want to yet. I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Did you ever have to have this conversation with her?" he asks, trying for casual and not really making it.

Clarke bites her smile. "You could just ask if I dated anyone in the last six years."

"Okay. Did you date anyone in the last six years?"

"Not really. I got laid sometimes, but nothing serious enough we had to talk about it. What about you? Anything since you got divorced?"

"No, not really. I'm sorry," he adds. "I feel like I haven't said that enough."

"Sorry about what?"

"Sounds like you had a shitty six years."

"Not the best years of my life," she admits. "But--I don't think it was really anyone's fault. You don't need to apologize. I never gave you the chance to make it better."

"I can be sorry that the last six years sucked for you." He kisses her hair, this warm, casual affection that makes her heart soar. There was some small part of her that worried if she told him how she felt, he'd say he felt the same just out of guilt or obligation, to try to make things better. But he's so _obvious_. He's just as thrilled as she is. "Sometimes I thought about just--showing up at your house and making you talk to me."

"I thought about showing up at your wedding and saying I objected to the union. Like in the movies."

He laughs. "Yeah, uh, they don't really do that when you get married at city hall. You would have been waiting for the line and it never came."

"Awkward."

"So, calling Madi," he says. "How much do you not want to do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are we doing it today, or--"

She has to smile. "You want to be there?"

"Unless you think it would be weird." His face twists up. "It would be weird, huh? You guys probably have some private stuff to talk about."

"I think I don't want to do it today. She's at work, and I just--"

"You're not ready."

"Sorry."

He kisses her temple. "It's cool. I assume you're going to tell her sooner or later. It's not going to be a secret, right?"

"Definitely not. You can tell Miller, if you want. And Raven. Anyone you want."

"And I should probably do that at home." She cocks her head, and he shrugs. "I assume you have work to do."

"Oh, yeah. You'd probably get bored here."

He lets out a familiar kind of laughing huff, something between amusement and frustration. "Clarke. I want to stay, I just don't want to impose. I want to see you pretty much all the time, okay? But I know you've got a life and don't get summers off."

"And you don't have anything to do. Or a change of clothes." She bites the corner of her mouth. "It's pretty early, if you wanted to go home and get some stuff and then just--stay?"

As soon as she's said it, it sounds like an open invitation, like she's asking him to be here for the foreseeable future, to move back in. And, honestly, if he wanted to, she wouldn't even mind.

It's really not a first date, not in any way that counts. They're not strangers getting to know each other, not even just friends fumbling through a relationship upgrade. They're pretty sure.

"I could grab a shower too," he says, smiling. "Get a couple days' of clothes, just in case."

"I'd say you could have your old room back, but--"

He laughs, leans over and kisses her again. "I don't want my old room back."

"Good," she says. "I like having a study."

*

They end up calling the next Friday, mostly because Clarke's going to see Madi the next day, and Bellamy might too, and she doesn't actually want to have the conversation in person. The phone feels safer.

She greets Clarke with, "Hey, is everything okay? You never call," because she is, at heart, Clarke's daughter.

"I'm trying to get used to it. And everything's fine. You're on speaker."

The frown in her voice deepens. "Okay."

"Hey, Madi," says Bellamy. 

"Hey," she says. "At some point, you still have to tell me why you actually called. I'm not going to guess."

Clarke assumes her first guess is the correct one, but if she was wrong, it would be really awkward. "I told Bellamy why I stopped talking to him six years ago. So--we're dating now."

"Oh my god!" she squeaks. "Seriously?"

"I was going to wait to ask her out until after the wedding," Bellamy supplies. "I didn't want to ruin your day if we got in another fight. But she got impatient."

"Then you better not fuck it up." She laughs, a bubbling of happiness, even though no one said anything funny. "Seriously?"

"I thought you wanted this to happen," Clarke says.

"Yeah, but that didn't mean I thought it _would_. No offense, Clarke, but you can be kind of stubborn. Actually, both of you can. You didn't talk to him for _six years_."

It's true, of course. She didn't talk to him, and he never tried reaching out again, but it feels like its own distinct kind of not talking to someone. Clarke will go months without talking to her mother, without even noticing. She went years without talking to Raven and Monty and everyone else, and she thought about them from time to time, but she could have fallen out of touch with them in all sorts of ways. If she'd moved or they had, she would have missed them sometimes, but she knows from experience that she'd send them texts for birthdays and when she was reminded of inside jokes, and they'd do the same. They'd still be friends, nominally, but she wouldn't have talked to them much more than she did after the fight.

But it wasn't like that with Bellamy. With Bellamy, the knowledge that she wasn't talking to him was always there, always present. And when she couldn't ask him for advice, she tried to figure out what he'd tell her. When she couldn't share news, she still imagined what he'd say. She didn't talk to the real him, but he never left her mind, not really.

"I didn't," she agrees, and kisses Bellamy's shoulder. "So we have a lot of time to make up."

"Gross," Madi declares. "Don't tell me about your _making up_."

"That one's on you," says Bellamy. "I thought it was romantic."

"Sure, that too. Definitely romantic." She pauses. "And seriously, if you guys break up before my wedding, I will disown both of you."

"I get that," says Clarke. "Sometimes you need to disown people. But you wouldn't get rid of us."

"Not creepy at all." But she's still smiling, Clarke knows. "Sorry, I'm actually on my way out to dinner? Like a normal twenty-something hanging out with friends. But I'll see you tomorrow for dress shopping, right? Are you coming, Bellamy?"

"If you want me to, yeah. Of course."

"Cool. I'm really happy for you guys. In case that wasn't clear."

"We got it, yeah," Clarke assures her. "Have a good dinner. I love you."

"I love you two. That's t-w-o," she adds. "Not t-o-o."

"I love you t-o-o," Bellamy says, smiling. "Talk to you soon."

Clarke hangs up and grabs the remote before she settles back again his side. "That went okay, right?"

"Yeah. I think we're good. I don't know why I was so nervous."

"Personality trait." He kisses her hair. "So, what do you want to do? I thought that would take longer."

Maybe he means for the rest of the night, maybe he means for the rest of their lives. Not that it really matters; it's the same basic idea. "Order something for dinner, find a movie, maybe have sex later? You know, the usual."

"The usual," he teases. "We've been dating for less than two weeks."

"Well, I want to be the usual. Any objections?"

He turns on the TV, squeezes her shoulders. "Nope. I could definitely get used to that."


End file.
